


mixing memory and desire

by ncfan



Series: Sirion [6]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canonical Couple, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Remembrance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I try to remember them, sometimes, but it's useless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	mixing memory and desire

It was raining, hard, and she searched for their faces in each drop that splattered against the window. She'd been looking for their faces in the facets of a lighted jewel, but then Eärendil had come into the room, and Elwing's Silmaril was stowed away under bed sheets, lest he saw it and wanted it for himself.

Elwing looked down on rainy streets, and imagined two boys splashing in the puddles, uncaring of booming thunder and growling lightning. She conjured up silver hair for them, unsure of why she would do that. Thingol had silver hair, so surely so would his heirs, but Lúthien's hair was dark, and Elwing, her heir, was dark-haired. The two boys were splashing in the puddles, and their outlines glimmered and wavered. They looked up at her and waved.

_Come down and play with us._

She didn't wave back.

"I try to remember them, sometimes." Eärendil was a reflection in the window, distorted by the swirls of the glass. He seemed no more real than the boys playing on the flagstones far below, but Elwing could hear him breathing, in-out, in-out, so he had to be real. She wanted to bathe her skin in glowing light again, but she couldn't so long as he was really in the room with her.

"Remember who?" Eärendil's voice was a little taut, like trying to breathe after having a scarf bound too tight around the throat.

"My brothers," she replied, weary and listlessly irritated with herself. "I try to remember them, sometimes. Try to recall their faces and what they were like. I try to imagine what they would be like, if they were still here." The two boys looked up at her uncertainly. She blinked and banished them. "But it's useless."

In her mind's eye, Elwing stared out the window, and she saw not rain but snow. It had been snowing that night, when the Iathrim fled Menegroth, and no one had realized until too late that while the Princess was with them, the twin Princes were not; she knew that much. In her mind's eye, she saw the snow, ice and darkness that had swallowed them up, wondering how she had avoided their fate, wondering how much could be attributed to the light hidden under her bed sheets.

Silent as a cat, Eärendil crossed the room. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hands on her bare arms. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, catching strands of hair on his mouth and smelling of salt. "The past haunts you," he murmured, nervous and sad and worried all at once. "It does me as well. Please. We're getting married tomorrow. I didn't think that any of your family would wish for you to mourn on such a day. Please, Elwing."

Elwing reached backwards to stroke his hair, and let that be her answer. She noticed that now, both of their reflections were twisted by the glass, and tried not to think about what that must mean.


End file.
